Just a Quick Stop
by Emmithar
Summary: A quick stop at the store proves to be more trouble than Sara and Greg ever expected.
1. Default Chapter

**Just a Quick Stop**

**By: Emmithar**

**Summary: A quick stop at the store proves to be more trouble than Sara and Greg ever expected. **

**Rating: PG-13, just to be safe**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly enough**

**A/N: Just a scenario I thought up after a long day ofwork, let me know what you think and if I should continue.**

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**Chapter one**

The sun was just setting as the small car pulled in front of the apartment buildings. She didn't have to wait long; he was standing outside, wearing jeans and short sleeve shirt, as well as sunglasses, even though the need wasn't apparent. He climbed in quickly, shutting the door behind him, removing the glasses as he did so.

"Thanks for ride Sara, you helped out big time," Greg told her as she backed the car up.

She nodded, "Not a problem, you're on the way, so it wasn't a biggie."

Greg shrugged, "If the auto shop got things done when they said they would, I wouldn't have this problem."

Sara could only laugh, "Greg," she said, actually turning to him, "If you got a car that worked, you wouldn't have this problem either."

He nodded thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, "True, but where would the adventure be?"

Sara rolled her eyes, glancing over her shoulder as she pulled back into traffic. "Is it okay if we make a quick stop?" she asked, coming to a stop a light.

"Well, you are the one driving," Greg reminded her, "But our shift does start in a few," he stated, tapping the clock on the radio.

"It won't be long," Sara glanced at the time, "Need to pick up some tape for Grissom, forgot to get it last night. Besides that, there's no water bottles left at the lab, Archie stole them all."

Greg laughed, "Yeah, I remember that."

"You should," Sara told him, gripping the steering wheel. "You're the one who provoked him into eating all those packets of hot sauce."

Greg was laughing hard now, wiping away the tears around his eyes, "It was great, wasn't it? I didn't think it was possible for someone to turn beet red from eating hot sauce."

"Yeah," Sara let out a chuckle, "just remember to watch your back."

She told him this as they pulled into the parking lot of a small convience store. They were the only ones there besides the store owner, a young Chinese women, who looked up from cleaning the counters as they came.

"So sorry," she told them, obvious that English wasn't her best of languages, "Closing time."

She pointed to the sign on the door, that hadn't quite made it to the close position, even though it was five past. Greg was already turning to go, but Sara grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"We wont be long," She told her, smiling. This was the last store between here and the lab, and doubling back meant being late. Something she was not willing to do.

The owner seemed unsure at first, biting her lip as she held the cloth in her hands. Finally she nodded, although doubt still showed in her eyes. She was tired, she wanted to go home, but she figured a few more minutes while she cleaned couldn't hurt.

"Hurry," she urged them, going back to washing.

Sara made her way around the isles, snatching first the tape, then going back to the freezer compartments. Reaching to grab a single water bottle, she changed her mind, picking up a case instead, only to stop again to select a different brand. It was on odd habit on her part, she always had to have water with her on cases. Especially now, since Greg was on her team as a CSI, she seemed to do more talking. _Go figure_, she thought; it wasn't like Greg was the quietest person she knew.

She turned to him, nearly laughing at the look he was giving her. It was a cross between amusement and irritation. "You ready?"

Greg shrugged, his hands were in his pocket. "Sure, unless you want that water instead, it has bubbles on the outside."

She gave him an equal stare, "I don't want bubbles in my water," she told him plainly.

"No bubbles," he said nodding, "got it, you want bunnies, not bubbles."

"I like this kind of water" Sara told him, getting defensive, "besides, the bunnies are cute."

Greg only rolled his eyes as he turned the corner, Sara following shortly after. It was then that she heard it. Gunfire. She had heard gunfire before, but this was different, it was close, much closer than she had ever heard gunfire before.

She reached almost automatically for her gun, dropping the water in the process. She was startled to find it missing, only to curse herself a moment later. Of course it wasn't there; it was back at the lab, in her locker. She didn't carry it with her outside of work, there wasn't a need to.

Sara wasn't sure when the change occurred; one minute she was standing, debating on what she should do. The next, she was on her hands in knees, her head throbbed as the floor on the convenience store seemed to sway, twisting and falling before her eyes.

She thought she heard a scream, a slight struggle; then more gunshots ripped through the air, and it was quiet again.

Stand…she had to stand, had to get out of this place, had to call for help. Even as she struggled to her feet her mind screamed at her to move. But she wasn't in control.

"I said stay down," a voice roared at her from behind.

Sara tried to process the information, wondering if she should listen to the warning, or try something else.

"You best stay down," the voice hissed again, he was standing behind her. She could tell by the direction his voice came from. "If you try anything, your boyfriend gets it," he warned again.

Sara was still on her hands and knees, staring at a small pool of blood on the floor that she could only assume that was hers. _Boyfriend?_She though solemnly, _what boyfriend?_

It was only then that she recognized who they were talking about, and a warning screamed in her mind. Greg. What had they done to him? She risked raising her eyes just a little, searching the floor in front of her. She saw no signs of him, he must be around on the other side.

"Down on the floor," the man behind her warned; she could hear him cocking a gun. It sounded like a rifle. She closed her eyes, laughing inwardly with irony. She was way too overworked.

"I said down!" the man yelled now, he was getting to the end of his rope. Still shaking, Sara gently lowered herself to the floor, her head coming to rest in her own blood. She kept her hands out in front of her, at the sides of her head, in position for quick action if opportunity presented itself.

"Good girl," her attacker appraised her, raising Sara's anger a notch. "Stitch, get that rope over here, we have another one."

Her eyes followed the pair of black boots that walked around the isle, until they passed out her line of site. She could hear the new man laughing, knew it was a man by the sound of his voice.

"Bagged ourselves a real trophy here," he nearly sung the phrase out. "With all the loot we have, we could go on a real honeymoon," he added, taking a hold of her hands, bringing them behind her back.

Sara's first thoughts were to fight back. Giving in was the worse thing to do, she had to act now if there was ever a chance. That plus anger coursed through her veins. She was not a trophy, for anything or anyone. However, the simple warning that was given to her before held her still.

She couldn't risk Greg's life on her behalf. She had no way of knowing if Greg was even alive, and if he was, how badly he was hurt. Until then, she would have to play along with her captors.

She almost laughed as the second man yelped as he was cuffed rather harshly. More in likely on the head, she thought.

"What was that for?" he wondered, his voice more pitiful now.

"We're here for the cash, nothing else. If you want to risk taking off with some slut, that's your deal. Don't try it on my time. Besides, these stores don't carry too much anyways, we'll have to hit a few more before we have enough."

Sara was livid, as she struggled against the ropes that were firmly tied around her hands. It did little good and only caused her captors entertainment. The laughed as the second man, she gathered, began to tie her ankles together, restricting her movements even more.

"Come on Stitch, I'm sure she wants to see her boyfriend. They can spend their last moments together. We can even get pictures of them too, this store carries plenty of cameras."

Sara felt sickened, as they drug her to her feet, and it wasn't from the harsh, sudden movement either. She silently cursed herself as they pushed her forward; her late night stop had cost both her and her co-worker dearly. Greg was her friend, and now because of her, they both would die, that was, if Greg wasn't dead already.

Turning the corner, she drew in a sharp gasp at what she saw, barely hearing the laughter of the two men behind her.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter Two

**Hmm…no one wants me to continue this do they? Just kidding :D Here's the next chapter. **

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**Chapter Two**

Nick let out a sigh, leaning forward, putting most of his weight on his elbows as he dropped his head into his hands. He glanced from the photos that were strewn over the surface of the table, to the clock that hung on the wall. Fifteen past eight, and since the clock was slow, that made it nearly twenty minutes. He shook his head, slightly amazed; they had some of the finest technology provided, and they couldn't even fix a clock. It had been slow for years now.

A tapping sound brought his attention back to the photos; he glanced over to find Warrick watching him. "Focus man, we need to figure this out."

Nick only nodded as he leaned back in his chair, "I know, but Sara and Greg should be here by now, and we're not figuring anything out."

Warrick laughed, clasping his hands in front of his mouth, "Knowing Greg, he's probably trying to call someone for a ride because his car is a piece of junk, and knowing Sara, she's probably the one who volunteered."

Nick laughed, "More in likely, that still doesn't explain why they are late."

"What's got you so wound up?" Warrick wondered, picking up a photo, then another.

"Game's on tonight, in ten minutes. I didn't pay for that new cable company to sit here and miss all my shows," Nick argued, picking up his own photo.

Nick had changed to a new cable company after being stalked by Nigel Crane, it had taken Nick some time to shake that fact off, but he was strong. Now it was as if the incident had never happened.

"Yeah, well we can't leave until they get here, they're taking over the case for us, Grissom wants this one solved, so for now, focus, let's find something."

Nick only nodded, hiding his disappointment as he went back to examining the photos.

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Sara's cry of surprise turned into one of pain as she was shoved onto the floor, her knees grinding into the hard tiles. She lifted her head back up, ignoring the warnings that were given her. Greg was flat on the floor, head to one side, a slim yet deep cut ran the length down the left side of his face, starting just under his hairline, crossing over his eye and ending on his cheekbone. He had been hit right in the face; the two men had to be coming in quickly, or already inside when Greg rounded the corner.

Blood had begun to pool out from under his stomach, staining the floor beneath him. Sara tried to call out his name, tried to wake him up, but was cut off as the assailant grabbed her hair, forcing her head down.

"Stitch! I thought I told you to tie him up!" The first man cried.

The younger, lankier man ran over to him, allowing Sara to see him for the first time, just out of the corner of her eyes. He was dressed in black, typical for a robber, and had face mask on. He couldn't have been much older than 20, barely over five feet tall, but it was hard to tell from her perspective.

"He was out Mando, he can't hurt no one," the man labeled Stitch complained.

"And what happens when he wakes up?" Mando snarled, twisting his hand in her hair, causing Sara to wince with every word he said. She lifted her eyes again to see the younger man tying Greg's hands together, behind his back like hers, and then bound his feet with several feet of rope he was carrying.

"There, he's tied," Stitch complained, kicking Greg in the stomach for emphasis. There was no response from him, confirming that he was indeed unconscious. "Besides, it's not like we're going to be here that long."

"You never know," Mando told him, shoving Sara face first to the ground, "Stay down," he warned her again, pressing the rifle against her back. She felt him move back, release his hold on her hair, and for a split moment, she thought about escaping. But only for a moment, as her eyes came to rest on Greg, then the thoughts were banished from her mind.

She tried calling his name, risking raising her voice above a whisper, just barely, hoping that he would hear her then. But there was nothing more than his soft breathing, almost strained, in and out. He was still bleeding, fairly rapidly, something that worried her.

She lifted her eyes, looking for the two robbers. She couldn't see them, but she could hear them, they were digging through the cash register. Up closer, by the front doors, the store owner lay, eyes open slightly. She wasn't breathing. Sara swallowed, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again.

She looked past the young woman, out into the darkness that had set around the store. How long had it been since they came in here? How long would it be before it ended? No, she couldn't think like that, they would get out of here, but how was the question.

First things first, she reminded herself, her attention returning back to Greg. The bleeding needed to stop. Sara glanced back up, making sure her captors were still focused on the cash instead of them. Luckily they were; either they weren't very good criminals or they weren't very bright, but on either hand, she still needed to be careful.

She was conjuring up a plan when a sudden whirring noise filled the air. It was quiet at first, something she almost passed up until it got louder. Sirens; they had also caught the attention of the attackers.

"Cops" Stitch yelled, "someone ratted us out."

"We don't know that yet," Mando scolded him, coming around the corner. Sara watched as he approached the doors, looking outside. Sara prayed for them to stop, as they grew even louder, but they were moving to fast, and before she knew it, they were passing by, and growing quieter.

"You don't panic unless you need to," Mando said, turning back to look at Sara, who was watching him. "Don't worry honey, we'll take good care of you."

Sara only grimaced as she laid her head back down of the floor, facing towards Greg. Closing her eyes, she began to formulate a plan.

* * *

It was now nine, Nick and Warrick were still looking over the photos, both of them agitated. Nick was missing the game, and Warrick was late for a dinner meet. Neither of them said anything, hadn't said anything for the past twenty minutes. The case was a confusing mess of nothing, or so it seemed. Nick had wanted to give up on it, but as high as priority as it was, he knew better than to even question Grissom's reasoning.

"You find anything yet?" Warrick finally asked, after nearly a half an hour of straining silence.

Nick only shrugged, grabbing up more photos. No, he hadn't found anything, he wasn't even really paying attention. He was too upset about Sara and Greg being late; too tired to really even concentrate anymore. Both he and Warrick had come in early, and now they would be staying late. He wasn't aware that he was drumming his fingers on the table until Warrick brought his own hand down, stopping the motion.

"Don't," Warrick pleaded, "I have a headache."

Nick only shook his head, but he did stop, turning back to the photos. It got him, how many times did an infant have to die before people learned. "Cars, swimming pools, backyards. Where will it be next?"

Warrick only shrugged. "Sad, really is sad, there's not much that we can do."

"We can find the killer," Nick said, practically throwing the papers down on the table. "And we're not going to find it here."

Warrick agreed silently. "Back to the car then?"

"I guess, recheck everything. Nothing's unsolvable, we just need that one piece of the puzzle, and everything will start to fit," Nick said, taking the lead out of the room. They ran into Grissom on the way.

"You two still here?" he asked, somewhat surprised.

"Back up hasn't arrived to relieve us yet," Nick shrugged it off, walking past him.

"Sara and Greg haven't come in yet?" Grissom wondered, turning to Warrick who had stayed behind.

Warrick shook his head, "If they're here, they got caught up in something else, forgot about us."

"Have you tried calling them?" Grissom asked, stating the obvious.

Warrick shook his head, taking off down the hall after Nick, "Haven't had the time."

* * *

They had been moved; Sara watched as they drug Greg across the floor, propping him against the freezer doors. They had pulled her to her feet; Sara had wrestled with them, her mind clearer now. It wouldn't be much longer now before the robbers would take off, and they had already made it clear that no one was coming out alive. Why they hadn't killed them off now was a surprise.

Her struggles hadn't lasted long, as she was shoved into the glass next to Greg. Not hard enough to break it, but hard enough to stun her momentarily. It took all her strength just to keep her balance, sitting on her knees. Without the use of her hands, she felt helpless, a shiver running down her spine as her captors laughed at the way she swayed. One of them used their foot to push her over. She hadn't fought back then.

"Keep them out of sight for now, until we finish here," Mando told Stitch, as the two walked back towards the counter.

They hadn't known, but they had been more of a help than Sara could ask for. She was sitting right next to Greg, right next to the wound that was still bleeding. Turning a little to her left, she was able to bring her hands against his chest, tracing down towards his stomach. Feeling carefully she was able to locate the small wound; it felt like a gunshot, more in likely what it was, considering all the gunfire that was released before.

_Forceful pressure, _she reminded herself. Crossing her hands as best she could, she pressed against the wound, leaning all her weight against him. She couldn't tell if she was stopping the blood flow, or even slowing it, all she could do was hope. Hope and pray as the night went on.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Grissom shut the door behind him as he entered his office. Placing the papers he held in his hand on top of the ever growing pile that was already on his desk, he picked up the phone, punching in the numbers to Sara's cell phone. It wasn't unusual for her to be late like this, it had happened before, but normally she called ahead, warned him that she would. He figured that maybe she had an appointment or something else planned, something she had told him about days or even weeks ago, and now it had just slipped his mind. He shouldn't be worried; he reminded himself that fact as the call finally went through.

"Hey Sara," he started to say, but was surprised as the call was cut off. A steady tone buzzed in his ear and he frowned, hanging up and trying the number again. There was no answer that time, so instead he tried her home phone. After five rings it picked up.

"Sara, it's Grissom, your cell phone's dead, and you're late," he started, only to realize how idiotic it sounded. "Just wondering if you were still at home, doesn't sound like it, see you when you get here then."

He hung up, shaking his head. Why had he called? Sara was fine, he reassured himself, so why was he so worried. Then he remembered that Greg was also not here. Sighing he picked the phone up again, pausing to remember what his cell number was before punching it in.

There was no answer, and he didn't bother trying to call his house either. He had already made an idiot out of himself once, no need to do it twice. Still he felt worse than before he had made the calls. Maybe they were here, somewhere around the lab, and had just forgotten that they were supposed to pick up on a case.

Though it could be possible, it wasn't very reasonable, he decided, grabbing the top few papers to sort through them. He would wait a little longer before trying to call again, maybe then Sara's phone would be recharged enough to get a call through.

* * *

It was warm…that was all he knew. Too warm for his taste. The air felt sultry, it was hard to breathe. Not only that, it hurt to breathe. Greg blinked wearily a few times, allowing his eyes time to adjust to the bright lights that hung from the ceiling.

It was then he felt it, something beside him, something that was on him. Turning to his left he frowned slightly. "Sara," he mumbled, still blinking.

"Greg," she answered back, turning to look over her shoulder. He hadn't the faintest idea why she had her back to him.

"What's going on?" he wondered, glancing around the store. Things were slowly coming back to him, he remembered where they were, but wasn't quite sure what happened.

"We uh, we have a situation," Sara started to explain, still watching him, but was interrupted.

"Hey look Mando, boyfriend's awake."

Greg looked towards the counter as one man jumped over and the other walked around. It all came back to him then, what had happened. He had just gotten around the corner, moving to the side as a man walked past. The second, he saw, had a gun. He was about to shout a warning, but never got the chance. The next thing he knew, was waking up.

"Isn't that sweet?" Mando asked, "Girlie's helping the boy."

Stitch laughed, "What are we going to do with them?"

An answer never came as a sharp ringing noise filled the air. Greg glanced towards the Sara, the sound startling him. The two robbers also were surprised, only Sara knew what it was the second it started. But it didn't take long for the others to figure it out either.

Sara was already pulling the phone from her back pocket, releasing her hold from Greg's wound for the first time in over thirty minutes. She hadn't even checked the caller ID as she threw the phone open, but she was unable to get a single word out.

Stitch wrestled the phone out of her hands, smashing it into the ground, as Mando dragged Sara to her feet. She let out a cry as her arms were twisted painfully behind her back, and she was unable to get her feet under her, simply because they were bound.

"Who you trying to call slut?" Mando yelled at her, throwing her down an isle. She landed against the metal shelves, crying out as she made contact. Her breathing hitched as she slid to the floor, but it was obvious that he wasn't done with her yet.

"You think you're so smart don't you?" he was screaming now, one hand grasped her chin, forcing her up.

"Leave her alone!" Greg shouted, trying to draw their attention away. His breathing had sped up, he putting more pressure on his chest; he winced with each one.

But it hadn't worked, and he watched in horror as the man holding Sara threw her back down. He could only see her feet, but he got a pretty good idea what was going on.

Sara tried her best to cover her face by turning her shoulder, and ducking her head into her chest. It did little to stop the heavy boot that came down on her, not once or twice, but several times in a row.

She couldn't hear what he was yelling anymore, nor could she hear Greg calling for her to answer, or his own cries of pain. She lost count of how many times she was hit, and was barely aware that he had stopped. She could taste blood, could feel it running down her cheek. It was the last thing she remembered.

**TBC**

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**Short, I know, but the next chapter should be up soon. No promises though. **

**R2R**

**Just a few responses here, a quick thanks to Dee, Sara.Fan4, white rose01, Sillie, LuvinNickStokes, SLynn, stlouiegal, LeaMarie F. Rocket, Morgan, yendys, GypsySmiles, Lifeguard, lins, stormchild, Gizzi1213, bene, Chicklet, Few, Kelly, Tripp3235, and racoony for reviewing. I really didn't expect this many reviews, it's surprising!**

**Mellaithwen**

Lol, you're asking me how I could do this? You should already know that mellon. You have Eric, which is almost as good as Greg, but Greg's still mine. I'm so glad it's the weekend, last week was so long. I have about ten hours over time for this week alone, not counting the five I had last week. Don't have to work Monday though, it'll give me some time to recuperate for another week ey? Have fun downloading!

**Catstokes**

Bribes huh? What do you got? Lol, just kidding. I write because I enjoy it, and this has been my favorite fic to write so far. So I don't think you'll have to wait too long before finding out what happens. Notice the key words there is 'too long' :D


	4. Chapter Three

**-Seriously wants to kill fanfiction- Third attempt here, hope it works!**

**Thanks to all who reviewed! Here's the next chap for ya**

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**Chapter 4**

The floor under her was cold, and wet. She had always hated being cold and wet. There was a time, when she was young, that she became lost, stuck outside in a violent windstorm. It wasn't until the morning that she had found her way home again, cold, wet and frightened. But that wasn't the only thing bothering her; her head was pounding. Right now, all she wanted to do was sleep, but there was that nagging voice, it wouldn't stop. Sara groaned as something nudged her in the legs again.

"Stop kicking me," she mumbled, "I'll be up in a few."

She let out a sigh as she was kicked again, "Stop it," she muttered.

"Sara," she could hear the person better now, even though she hadn't wanted to.

"Sara, come on, get up. Please," the voice continued. _Funny_, she thought, _sounds like Greg._

"Sara, come on baby, open your eyes for me. Let me see your eyes, come on, wake up girl."

Sara frowned; Did Greg just call her 'baby'? Warily she opened her eyes, trying to make out the blurry shapes around her.

She finally saw Greg smiling at her, and she couldn't help but smile back. "There you are," he said softly, smiling still. "You scared me there for a minute."

She only blinked, letting herself roll from her side to her back. "What happened?" she asked groggily, concentrating on breathing in and out at the current moment.

"Your phone went off," Greg told her gently, "They didn't take to it to well. Drug you back over here after you passed out."

She nodded, waiting a moment to find her voice. "How are you feeling?" she asked. He looked more bruised than the last time she saw him.

"I'm hanging," he breathed heavily, leaning forward slightly. She could hear him hiss in pain as he began making his way towards her. "You?"

She almost laughed; would have laughed if she wasn't hurting so much. "I've seen better days," she muttered dryly.

Greg nodded as he laid his head on the floor next to hers. He was out of breath even though he hadn't gone more than two feet.

"Where?" she wondered. She hadn't any need to finish the question.

"Outside," Greg answered, "Smoking."

Sara shook her head. "They murder, rob, hold us hostage, and follow indoor smoking ban laws?"

"Weird huh?" Greg told her, "I can't figure out if they're new at this, or just stupid and lucky."

Sara did laugh this time, closing her eyes. "I'd would bet on the latter of the two."

"Sara," Greg started, raising his head a little. "We need help."

She nodded. "We've needed help ever since we started this job."

Greg laughed softly, rolling himself to his side, slowly pulling himself closer. "That's not what I meant. Let me see your hands, maybe I can get them untied." Greg had turned so that his back was to her side. It had been slow and painful, but he had managed it. He waited until Sara had moved her hands out from under her.

The ropes were tight around her wrists, and it took a moment for Greg to find out where the knot began. It was also difficult, given that his own hands were tied. Nothing was said between the two as Greg worked on the ropes as quickly as he could. There was no telling how long their captors would be outside.

"There," Greg breathed finally, "I think I got it." He pulled the loops from around her wrists.

Sara groaned softly as she flexed her fingers, trying to shake the numbing feeling out of her hands. She brought her arms in front of her, grabbing a shelf in order to help her sit up. She held fast as a wave of dizziness passed over her.

"After you untie your legs, leave the rope around them just enough to make it look like they're still tied. When I give the signal, run," Greg told her, taking time to catch his breath in between words.

"You're crazy if you think I'm leaving you here alone," Sara told him, reaching down to loosen the ropes around her ankles.

"You'll have to," Greg said, slowly pulling himself back towards the freezer. "I can barely move. You'll to run for help. I can hold out here, but you'll have to hurry, and don't get caught."

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head the entire time, but she also knew that Greg was right.

"They've already pulled our wallets, and lifted your keys, so the vehicle is out of option," Greg continued, as Sara moved over to him, catching him halfway in his slow crawling slide, working to untie the ropes that bound his own hands. He too groaned as she finally pulled the ropes off.

Sara helped him back into a sitting position, moving to untie the ropes around his ankles as well as Greg rubbed his wrists, grimacing as he did so. She stopped her movements however as the doors were opened. Greg placed his hands behind his back, nodding at Sara to do the same. He watched as she stuffed the loose ropes behind several bags of chips, beginning to protest as she pulled the ropes completely free of her legs, hiding those as well. Greg grew quiet as she swung her legs under her, before folding her hands behind her back in the same manner as Greg. Only moments before the two robbers walked in into their view.

"Looks like you doing okay," Mando said, smiling, hands in his pocket. He had removed his mask, allowing the two to see him for the first time. He had short brown hair, as well as a beard. Next to him, the younger man Stitch had also removed his mask. He had longer hair, looking as if he hadn't washed in weeks. He was clean shaven, at least a head shorter than his partner.

"Sorry about earlier," Mando continued, "we got off to a bad start. My patience isn't always the best."

Sara stared continually at the floor, unwilling to answer. Across from her, Greg spoke up. "So, no hard feelings, when are you letting us go?"

Stitch and Mando laughed, "You can't be serious. You two are going no where. Seen too much," Mando said with a simple shrug. He held up Greg's wallet then, examining it in the lights.

"CSI huh?" he wondered. Stitch spoke up next to him.

"I've heard of these before," he cried, trying to snatch it out of the older man's hands. Mando held it out of his reach.

"They're like cops," Stitch said, still jumping for the wallet. Mando laughed.

"Cops; bad news for us normally. Say Stitch, how much do you think we'd get off them?"

Stitch had stopped his efforts of obtaining the wallet, bending over slightly he had his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. He wasn't in very good shape; something that Sara and Greg could use to their advantage.

"Not sure boss," the young man spit out, straightening up. "Not all that much for the guy," he continued, "but for the girl, we may be able to make a mint. You have that, soft heart factor to take into account."

Sara felt sick; they were being talked about as if they were a piece of merchandise. It was cruel, uncalled for. She wanted to say something, come up with a clever comeback, but her mind was blank. Greg saved her from saying anything stupid however.

"We're not cops," Greg said firmly. He wasn't willing to explain anymore, he knew that if the criminals learned they worked with cops, things could go bad for them. Greg hoped that the young man's ignorance would prove to be worthy for them at least once tonight. Maybe his ramblings would cause the older man to ignore him, and this topic would be forgotten.

"That's not what these pretty badges say," Mando intervened, shuffling through Sara's wallet as well. Stitch had finally gotten a hold of Greg's wallet and was busy pulling out the cash that was inside. Safe to say there wasn't much.

"Twenty lousy dollars," Stitch threw a fit, trying to crush the leather in his hand. Mando only shook his head, pulling out more cash from Sara's wallet. It was more than Greg had, but still not a significant amount.

"Don't worry," Mando told him, handing him the rest of the cash. "We'll be getting more off these two."

He started forward, reaching down to pull Sara to her feet. Greg had been waiting, had been ready. Without missing a beat he jumped forward, gritting his teeth at the pain that tore through his body. His arms wrapped around the large man's legs, throwing the unsuspecting criminal to the floor.

"Sara, run!" Greg yelled at her, doing his best to hold him down.

Sara staggered to her feet, catching Stitch off guard, able to run right past him. She could hear Greg yelling at her to keep going, to not look back, but she did anyway. Mando had already overpowered Greg, pinning him to the floor with one hand, thrashing him with the other.

She had wanted to stop, to go back. But Greg had told her to run. She was their only hope at the moment. If she didn't get any help, she didn't want to think of what would happen.

"Get the girl Stitch!" Mando roared; his face was turning red. He had let up on Greg for a moment, but a moment was all Greg needed as he watched Stitch run by, following Sara. Weakly he kicked out, catching the young man's feet, tripping him.

Mando cursed, giving Greg another punch for good measure before taking off after the fleeing captive himself. Greg had barely begun to push himself up when he was attacked again, by the smaller man. He wasn't as strong as Mando had been, but Greg was running out steam. What he had done already had been too much.

Unlike Mando, Stitch did little damage, the two mainly struggled. Greg, his body wracked with pain, was barely conscious that his hands were being held together; he didn't hear the zipping sound, didn't feel the thing plastic cut into his wrists. After a few precise kicks to his ribcage, the young man pulled away from the wheezing CSI, to help his partner. Greg was left alone.

* * *

Sara had managed to make it outside. The cool night air hit her in full force; only then did she really understand how muggy it had been inside the store. She came to a stop, looking around, trying to figure out where to go. It had been a mistake. Someone grabbed her from behind.

Sara managed a scream before he covered her mouth, bending her head back so that it came to rest on his shoulder. His breath was rancid, and she winced at the pressure he was forcing on her.

"That wasn't a smart move," he warned her. "Now, be a good little girl, and come back inside."

She ignored him, trying to slip free but his grip only tightened. "We could always kill your boyfriend off," he said simply, finally winning the battle. Defeated, Sara allowed herself to be led back inside.

Her legs were left free, but her hands were rebound, this time with a plastic zip tag, the same kind used to keep cords together. Sara winced as the plastic cut into her hands, before raising her head to find Greg. She bit her lip, trying not to make a sound as the two criminals conversed.

Greg was barely conscious, if he was at all. He had been beaten roughly, and was bleeding again, this time from his nose and mouth. She watched him, his heavy, inconsistent breathing, willing him to open his eyes. She didn't want to risk saying anything, didn't want to risk causing Greg anymore pain.

"We need to move, now," she could hear Mando saying, "The sooner the better, get the money into bags." He walked around the counter, grasping a gun in his hand, one that Sara hadn't seen earlier.

Walking up to her, he cocked the gun, holding it level with her head. Sara swallowed, closing her eyes. So this was how it was to end.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

Grissom was working with Nick and Warrick; he had tried calling Sara back several times, Greg as well, but earned no answer from either of them. He was worried now. No one had seen them around the lab, no one had heard any reasoning for them being late. He had half hoped that Greg had somehow conned Sara into a dinner before their shift started, and they had only lost track of time.

It was an odd feeling. The thought of Greg with Sara, on a possible date, bothered him. He didn't know why, it shouldn't concern him. But it did. So he had occupied himself. Done something to keep his thoughts from straying to the unthinkable. He had a rancid taste in his mouth, little did he know it was the same taste both Nick and Warrick had in their mouths as well.

The trio had combed the car over twice, every last part. They had only turned up a few scare fibers, ones that they were certain already were accounted for. They had nothing new. This was where Brass found them.

They could tell by the look on his face that he had news, news he didn't want to share, but had to. He leaned on the frame of the doorway for a moment, taking in a breath, wondering how to start.

"We received a call, there were reports of screams, coming from near a small convenience store, five blocks from here. Report stated lights were still on even though the place closed at 8, and there were two cars out front, one belonging to the owner, and the other," he paused, drawing in another breath. "The other matches Sara's car."

* * *

Sara was expecting the gun, the deafening noise, the bullet and the blood; she had seen enough crime scenes to know what happened after the trigger was pulled. What she wasn't expecting was the hand in her hair, jerking her to her feet.

Grimacing she staggered upright, the gun still pressed against her head. She swayed slightly on her feet, but behind her, Mando made certain that she didn't fall.

"Time to go for a ride," he told her, laughing in her ear. The warmth of his breath made her shiver, as he began leading her outside.

Sara could hear Stitch pulling Greg, dragging him. She doubted Greg had any strength left to stand, and it was clear that Stitch wasn't strong enough to keep him on his feet, as Mando was doing to her. The night air was just a shocking again, like walking out of a sauna into an ice storm. Sara inhaled deeply through her nose, a hand pressed against her mouth kept her from crying out again. When she saw their destination, she began to struggle, trying to pull free as Mando shoved her roughly inside the already open trunk.

Before she could do anything, Greg was shoved practically on top of her, the door slamming right after, casting the two into darkness. Sara slowly pushed herself against the far wall, allowing Greg to have more room.

Her eyes searched out for anything, trying to guide her hands in hope of anything useful. Where was her kit? She knew Greg's was at the lab, he had left it there since his car had been in the auto shop. But hers was gone. The robbers must have taken it out while snooping through the vehicle earlier. That left them with nothing.

Under them, the car sputtered to life, throwing both of them against the backside of the trunk as the wheels were spun. Sara's eyes still searched the darkness in vain. It took a moment to realize that the shaking she felt was not from the road beneath the vehicle.

"Greg," she stammered, leaning over him a little. She was using her elbows to prop herself up.

When no answer came she called him again, shaking his shoulder gently.

"Greg, you're shaking," she stated plainly, moving her hands up to his forehead.

"G..guess I am, huh," he replied softly, stuttering.

"You're like ice," she continued on as if he had never spoken. Greg wasn't just shaking, he was trembling. His breathing hitched with each breath he took, short broken breaths inward, and an inhuman wheezing as he let them out.

Sara could only conclude one thing. Greg was going into shock. She started to panic, only to curse herself. She couldn't panic now. Sara racked her brains, trying to remember what she knew about people who were going into shock, and how to help them. Nothing.

Cursing again, Sara scooted closer to him, looping her bound arms around him, bringing them down to rest against his chest as she positioned herself so that her head rested on his shoulder.

"W…what are y…you doing?" Greg stuttered again, struggling to talk and breath at the same time.

"Keeping you warm," Sara answered, rubbing his bare arms with her hands. She could feel the goose bumps easily.

"Not…cold," he started, but didn't finish.

"Greg," Sara called to him, moving up rub his forehead gently. She ran her hands through his hair, somewhat surprised at how soft it felt, considering the amount of gel he had to use in order to style it.

"Talk to me Greg, don't fall asleep on me."

"About w…what?" Greg's voice was faint, almost hard to hear, in sharp contrast to his loud irregular breaths.

"Anything," Sara said quickly, knowing that she had to keep him engaged. "What about the field?" she asked then, knowing that Greg enjoyed the field, and had been working hard at his new position. "How do you think you're doing?"

She felt Greg shrug under her, a good sign she figured.

"Okay I g…guess. I…I just want t…to be able to do some…thing right…for once," he wheezed, still shaking against her.

Sara went back to rubbing his arms, trying to keep him warm. It frightened her, how cold he was. Almost like he was…no, she couldn't, wouldn't think like that. Swallowing she answered him.

"You will," she told him gently, smiling in spite of herself. "You're still learning. I mean, if you did everything right, I think you'd scare Grissom out of Vegas."

Greg laughed softly, but became solemn again, "Yeah…but n…not everything…just…something. L…look at you…y…you never mess up. You're perfect."

"I'm far from perfect," she smiled softly, "though I wouldn't mind being so."

"Name the l…last time you messed…up," Greg challenged her.

"Okay, when I blew up at Catherine, then at Ecklie, after blowing up in front of the suspect. It was worse then, because I knew it was wrong."

Greg laughed again, "T…that wasn't…a mess…that was sweet."

"Yeah," Sara laughed, nudging him, "your definition of sweet is also Ecklie's term of pink slip." She was still laughing as she laid her head on top of his, closing her eyes.

"Your hair smells sweet," Sara remarked before she realized what she was saying. She felt herself blush soon afterwards.

"Baby shampoo," Greg muttered, sighing under her.

"You use Baby Shampoo?" Sara asked, opening her eyes.

"Yeah…" he started, "works nice…doesn't sting y…your eyes."

"Well, you're not supposed to put shampoo in your eyes," Sara taunted him, waiting for a response. None came.

"Greg?" she asked, lifting her head up. "Greg, don't sleep, stay with me." Still no response came. "Greg?" His breathing had eased, and she knew that he had passed out, his body unable to keep up with his injuries.

Laying her head back down on his, she drew him into a gently, yet secure hold as tears began pressing against her closed eyes. Below, she could feel the car change direction again, and she could only wonder where they were being taken too now, and if Greg would even be with her still when they arrived.

**TBC**

* * *

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, once again. First things first, sorry for any misspelled, mistyped, and/or repeated pen names. There's a lot of them, and very unique ones as well. So any mistakes are not done on purpose. I'm only responding quickly to a few ppl!**

Thanks to: Stormchild, crookedpen, justawritier, surfedia, Yet-Another-Weasley, GypsySmiles, Michele Grahn, yendys, Aphrodite2, SARA.fan4, CSIindiegurl, spikes-storm, lins, raccoony, Tripp3235, Sillie, Ms. Elizabeth Granger (thanks for the comment!) firestorm13, Fwe (Spelled it right this time) nan, Cheezit, brainfear, Dee, NAQUADA, Michele Grahn, Kelly, LuvinNickyStokes, and bene for all your, very similar reviews :D

**Slynn**

Cliffhangers with a side of fries? Yeah, I know it's cruel, I just can't help it, it's in my nature. Would I kill Sara? I don't know…not now, at least, but you never know :D, so many chapters, so little time…

**Mellaithwen**

-Is staying away from Mellaithwen just to be on the safe side-

My sugar, stay away OO. Had an evil keyboard once, got rid of it. Never saw it again. Funny thing is, I like Catherine more than Sara, she's so…ingenious I would have to say. She knows her stuff. She gets stuck up though, sometimes, I don't like her then. But her demeanor is so, her…

Doesn't make any sense, I know.

We had quarters, semesters…younger kids have trimesters…those are confusing. But I get what you mean. We don't get a break though, just one day, which isn't a break! Work, we get days off, today one of the few days that we do get. So happy, but back to work tomorrow.

**jbr12476**

I'm not exactly sure where the fic will go yet, surprisingly enough, it's still coming off the top of my head. I never actually expected to continue this after the first chapter really, it was just a nagging idea that wouldn't let me alone, so I put it down, only expected a few reviews. Was a bit of a surprise to see how many ppl are reading it.

**RiverRunsDeep**

Si, si, will continue soon. Always try and do so. King of the world huh? Not a bad title. Next chapter will be up soon.


	6. Chapter Six

**Thanks for all the reviews, once again. R2R will be on next chapter. We will be getting into more of the other members in this chapter, and more in the next chapter. Some of the information on when the CSI members work may be incorrect in accordance to the show, but for this story, just go with it, otay?**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

The lights were still on when they arrived. Cop cars and an ambulance surrounded the parking lot, their lights were still flashing; near the door Brass stood, talking quietly with an officer. It was now four in the morning, the night shift was to end in only a few hours, Catherine had come in early, as soon as she had gotten the call. Nick and Warrick, who were now almost done with their second shift straight, were also there, unwilling to leave now.

They met her with a nod, nothing more as the trio made their way up to Brass. Grissom had already gone inside the store, arriving at the scene with Brass, who had already cleared the area. It was an eerie feeling, they had been told nothing more at the time. Now they were fearing the worst.

"One DB," Brass told them softly, "Marina Hiro, Chinese American, early twenties. Single gunshot wound to the back of the head. She was the owner of the store, the vehicle matching Sara's was gone by the time we got here, as well as Marina's attacker" he pointed at the black top. It was hard to make out, but tread marks could be seen.

"Someone left in a hurry," Catherine remarked, letting the beam of her flashlight rest on the pavement.

"Any sign of Sara?" Nick asked Brass, resting a hand on the door.

Brass shook his head, "So far, nothing. I haven't been able to locate her or Greg, so we're assuming that they were together."

Nick nodded, "Greg's car is in the shop, if anyone gave him a ride it was Sara. Shifts start at the same time, Greg's on her way."

Brass agreed silently as they made their way inside. Catherine grimaced; there was blood, a lot of it, all over. The floor, the walls, the shelves, the counter…she even risked looking up at the ceiling, relieved to find that there wasn't any blood up there. Even with all the scenes she had processed before, this one was different. This time, it could be one of their own.

"Two different weapon discharges," Grissom told them, without looking up. He was kneeling down on the far side of the store, next to a pool of blood.

"Someone was here," he indicated at the blood smear on the freezer door. "And it looks like another person, or possibly the same person, was drug over here, then back to the door."

"I didn't see any blood trails outside" Nick told him, looking over his shoulder, "but I'll go check again."

"Sara or Greg?" Catherine asked Grissom, kneeling down beside him.

"There's no proof that they were here tonight," Grissom told her, even though it was the same thought on his mind. He had said it a little harsher than intended, trying to convince himself as much as her.

"They were here," Warrick spoke for the first time that night. Both Catherine and Grissom looked up at him.

"Sara Sidle, Greg Sanders," he read softly, turning the wallets over in his hands. "ID, credit cards, but no cash."

"Smart move, for the assailant at least. He knew that we could trace him through records if he used them," Grissom told him, fighting against the icy feeling in his stomach. "More in likely this isn't his first attempt."

"How do you know it's a he, and that there's only one?" Catherine wondered, turning back to him.

"I don't," Grissom said solemnly. "Alert Brass, we'll treat this as a hostage situation, and we need to find the surveillance footage. No one works on anything else, do I make myself clear?"

He hadn't any need to ask. The others were unable to even think of anything else, and so they nodded without a word.

"Let's process," Warrick said, opening his kit.

* * *

Sara wasn't sure how long they had been in there; the car never ceased its steady humming as it rolled over the road. You never really realized how rough the road was under you until you went over it while in the trunk. Sara was powerless to do anything as Greg's body trembled throughout the night, his temperature shot from icy cold to a sweaty fever in only a few hours. His breathing was ragged; at times it seemed like he was panting.

Sara continued to talk to him quietly, even though he couldn't hear her. It made her feel better; made her feel as though she was helping him in some way. During that time an uneasy weariness came to settle over her. Head pounding, and muscles aching, she closed her eyes, trying to stave off the unwanted feeling.

The lurching of the car brought her back to her sense. She cursed herself in one long sentence, lifting herself up to glance at Greg in the dim light.

It had to be day now, it was warmer in the trunk now, and the temperature was steadily rising. Deep black and blue bruises marred his face, dried blood clung around his nose and lips, the cut down his face had become swollen. She hadn't meant to fall asleep.

Placing her hands against his forehead, she let out a sigh of relief, noting that he was much cooler now, still running warm, but nothing like earlier. His trembling had subsided, but a lone shiver would still pass through his body every now and then. He was doing much better.

Smoothing his hair, Sara called his name softly, hoping for an answer. "Greg?"

"Yeah?" he answered softly after a short period of silence, earning a smile from her.

She let out a sigh, laying her head back down, "Just making sure you're still here," she said softly.

Greg laughed a little, "I'm not going anywhere…at least not with the kung fu grip…you have on me."

Sara blushed, laughing some as she let up on him. "Sorry," she apologized, "you kind of scared me."

"It's okay," his breathing was still heavy, but his talking was much smoother now than it was earlier. "Can't wait to tell Nick…I actually got you to sleep with me."

Sara snorted, nudging him in the back with her knee, "Dream on lab rat," she told him, but was smiling, glad that he was sounding much like himself.

"I've officially worn that name out," he protested.

"Fine, then I'll just call you field mouse," she answered, before he was unable to say anything else.

Greg's laughter turned into a coughing fit, worrying Sara. It only lasted a moment, but it was a deep, painful cough, she could tell as he laid his head down with a sigh.

"Greg?" she asked, raising her head up some.

"Hurts," he told her, hoping that would explain enough, but after a moment of silence he continued. "It hurts to breath."

"I think you might have some broken ribs," she told him. It would actually surprise her if he didn't have any; after the way Mando had beaten him, she was surprised Greg was even still alive.

"Any idea…where we are?"

Sara shook her head, "Besides in my trunk, not really. I don't they've stopped at all."

"Means we could be anywhere," Greg muttered, fighting off a yawn.

"Get some sleep," Sara coaxed him, "while you can anyways. I'll wake you if anything happens."

"And let you have…all the fun?" Greg asked, shaking his head. "Don't think so."

"You need your rest," she pleaded, feeling his forehead once again.

Greg pulled away a little, "I'm a big boy," he reassured her, "I'll be fine."

"Greg," she started again, but was stopped as the car came to a stop. The engine was shut off, and after a moment, the hollow sound of doors opening and closing could be heard. Sara felt Greg entwine his hand in hers, giving them a slight squeeze. Sara squeezed back.

**TBC**


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

Catherine rewound the segment back, hitting the play button for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. It was now near six, and she had been reviewing the surveillance footage continuously since a little after four thirty. Shaking her head, she bit her lip as she watched it one more time.

"Show me what you have," Grissom's voice startled her, and Catherine found herself quickly drying her eyes off, glad that her hair was hiding her face somewhat.

"You okay?" Grissom asked suddenly, watching her.

"Yeah," Catherine said, smiling sadly. _I always enjoy watching my friends get pounded to a pulp, _she added silently. "Okay," she stated, backing up the footage again. "Five after Eight, Sara and Greg pull up, enter the store. Seems like our owner tried to get them to leave, but knowing Sara, she's persistent."

Grissom nodded, _perhaps a little too persistent. _"It would have been best if she and Greg just left," he stated, folding his arms.

Catherine nodded in agreement. "You sure you want to watch this?" she asked him, pausing the tape. "It's not pretty."

"That's why I'm here," Grissom told her gently, nodding for her to continue. She started the video once again.

"At seven after, two men arrive, masked, clothed in black. No car visible from the outside camera; must have walked, taken a taxi or a bus. Greg walks around the corner…" she didn't have to finish, the footage said enough.

Grissom said nothing as his blood boiled, as he watched the two men thrashed both Greg and Sara throughout the video. He felt sickened, and was somewhat glad that the footage was only visual, and not audio as well.

His thoughts were interrupted as Warrick came into the room. "You need to see this," he told Grissom, nodding to Catherine as well as she paused the video.

Grissom shook his head. "Not now," he didn't want to leave, he felt nauseous, and he wanted to see if they could get a face off the surveillance.

"You're going to want to see this," Warrick persisted.

Grissom frowned as he followed Warrick out of the room. He stopped, and turned to Catherine before leaving. "See if you can find a face for our boys," he told her, before hurrying to catch up with Warrick.

"This just started broadcasting," Warrick warned him, flipping on the screen. The news was on, the red line at the bottom read 'Breaking News' and a young blonde women was just beginning to announce.

"Police are on the lookout for two suspects who are believed to be holding two CSI Officers hostage. Greg Sanders and Sara Sidle never made it to the crime lab for their shift, and were believed to be caught in a small store robbery. So far, police have no leads."

"How did they get this information?" Grissom asked him, and Warrick only shrugged.

"Told you that you wanted to see it," he said with a sigh, turning of the screen.

* * *

The air was dry, a burning sensation had settled deep in the back of his throat. If breathing wasn't hard enough, trying to swallow was worse. Half the time if felt like he couldn't even breathe; it was if he had swallowed a bubble, that refused to pop, and the constant coughing wasn't helping either.

Greg had regained some of his strength, not much, but enough that he could move under his own power. Still, Sara tried her best to stay right by his side, offering up an awkward shoulder when she could. Mando and Stitch kept a close eye on them, keeping the pair in between them, with Stitch leading the gang up a rocky hillside.

Soon after stopping, Mando had drug the pair from the trunk. They were quite literally in the middle of nowhere, Sara could see no real pavement in either direction, or sign of life, but then again it wasn't like she was given much time to look either. Soon after, Mando had begun to push her up the hillside, trying to keep both her and Greg apart. After holding her ground some, he finally let her walk beside a feeble Greg, offering him help only when he would take it.

The climb was slowly wearing him out, Sara was surprised that he had lasted this long. They were nearing the top when Greg stumbled, and Sara caught him the best she could, only resulting in the both falling to their knees. Grumbling Mando grabbed Sara by the arm, yanking her up, following suit with Greg as well.

"This is taking too long," he yelled ahead to Stitch.

"We're nearly there," the younger man yelled back, "just around the bend there," he pointed out to the rocky formation.

Greg heaved inwardly as he stumbled forward once again. He wasn't certain if he could make that distance, but Mando would see him through, Greg was quite sure of that. The pair had been told nothing, only threatened, as they were pushed along the rocky path.

Finally, Greg and Sara could see their destination. An old broken down house, nearly invisible from the country road they had left, sheltered by the high hills. It looked as if no one had lived there for years.

Fear was beginning to consume Sara. Slowly, little by little. She had a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, that their fates would be decided once reaching the house. She shook her head. Why kill them way out here? If they wanted them dead, wouldn't it have been easier and less painful to finish them off at the store? They had talked about ransoming, the one thing with that however, is the victim hardly ever came out alive. They were dead before the ransom was even made. Was this what was to become of them? Just another case, another day's work?

"Home sweet home," Stitch laughed, kicking the door open.

Greg wasn't willing to walk in on his own, and seeing the hesitation, Mando grabbed him roughly behind the neck, shoving him forward. Greg grimaced at the pain, trying to pull free, with little success, as Sara was hustled in behind him with the threat of a gun, pointed to the back of her head.

Shoving Greg to his knees, Mando picked up a long piece of chain that was covered in dust, wrapping it around his wrists several times before locking it secure. Turning to his left, he could see Sara receiving the same treatment.

"That'll hold them," Mando nodded at Stitch who finished tying Sara up.

"Feel free to wander as far as those chains will let you," Mando continued, laughing some as if it were a game. "But if you get too noisy, gags always work nicely."

Neither of them said anything as Mando and Stitch turned to leave. Only when they were gone did Sara get to her feet, testing the lock, finding that it wasn't coming off anytime soon. The chain itself wasn't very long, not as long as Greg's was anyways.

Turning to watch him, she was frightened to see him still on his knees, bent over in the same position Mando had him in when locking him up. He was breathing heavily, and his body was starting to shake again. Sara could tell that he was concentrating; his eyes were closed, and his face was tense.

Moving over to him, she placed her hands on his shoulder as she sat down on the dusty floor. Greg barely opened an eye, turning away even as he did so.

"You okay?" Sara asked quietly, knowing that it was indeed a ridiculous question to even be asking. Greg had been shot, beaten and drug halfway across the desert, and she was asking if he was okay. But the same thought occurred in her mind as well. Was she okay? She certainly had seen better times than this, but she felt well enough at the moment, with an exception of the heavy weight in her stomach, and ever growing worry that her companion wouldn't last much longer.

Greg nodded in answer, lifting his head up some, "Throat's sore," he managed to say, giving her a soft grin. That was the least of his worries though. The gunshot wound, he could tell, had ripped open again. He could feel a small, yet definite blood trail making its way down his side again. He wasn't sure how much blood he had lost already, but he was certain he didn't have room to spare.

Sara smiled back at him, even though she could tell he was in a great deal of pain. Ever so gently she began rubbing his shoulder, moving down to his back, watching him closely, as if studying him.

Greg made no move or comment as she did so, listening to the unnerving rattle the chain made as she moved her hands in short semi-circles. With a sigh he met her eyes again, the grin now gone. "So," he rasped quietly, "is this where it ends?"

Sara stopped her motions for a moment, watching him with a saddened expression. "I don't know," she told him softly. "I want to say we'll get out this somehow, part of me wants to believe that still, but honestly…I don't know anymore."

Greg nodded silently, disappointment masking his face. He had wanted to hear different, even if he doubted that they would escape, he still wanted to hear her say that they would. He was caught off guard when Sara fingered his chin, leaning forward to kiss him lightly on the lips. He blinked as she pulled away, unsure of what to say or do.

Sara only smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. Greg watched her for a moment, before laying his head on top of hers, looping his arms around her chest. "We'll get out of here," he told her, more confident now.

"It's okay," she muttered, her words muddled by his shirt. "I don't mind going like this."

Greg laughed softly, yawning as he leaned against the wall behind them, bringing Sara with him. "We will get out of here."

**TBC**

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**A quick**** thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**Ms. Elizabeth Granger**

Lol, poor Greg…not sure if you're really helping him by sitting on him though. Though your karate action might help some.

**Teenwitch**

Thanks for the comment! I always try and keep the characters, well, in character. Makes the most sense to me anyways.

**Cherokeeladay**

I'm really curious to what breakfast food rhymes with his name. I've been thinking about it, but I'm stumped. What is it?

**Slynn**

Greg's not dead…not yet anyways not to say that he will be either…you just never know with me :D

**jbr12476**

Surprising huh? Only thought about posting a few chapters, but this has turned into a full fledge story, and I'm already working on a sequel

**RiverRunsDeep**

I thought the baby shampoo worked well with him. In my opinion at least. Grissom is jealous, yes….serves him right I feel :D After asking Sophia out.

**Few**

Glad you like it. Stitch is more…stupid than Mando I guess you could say…mean, yes, but true.

**CSIindiegurl**

My secret for writing? I just write…I sit down, put on some quiet music and write, I let the story tell itself. Weird huh? Thanks for the comments!

**Yet-Another-Weasley**

Greg's a hottie…I watched him in the second season the other day, compared to know…he's changed a lot. Not that I mind of course!

**Dee**

looks down uh….hi? how'd you find me? Lol…glad I've got you hooked, but I didn't know you were being literal :D

**raccoony**

It's a bigger trunk yeah, but it's not like they have a lot of room to move around in their either. Hope that helps


	8. Chapter Eight

**Just a quick A/N here, there is a few hard cliffies coming up in the next few chapters, um…finish reading the story before you kill me at the very least? Agreed? Good….-runs and hides-**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

Kenny's News station was bustling; reporters ran from one end of the building to the other, newscasters were being prepped for the noon report, and equipment handlers were busy screaming at one another from across the large hallways, and rooms, frantically trying to set up before they aired.

Grissom watched all this happen from under his glasses. In one hand he held a report, where he tapped it impatiently against his folded arms, resisting the urge to scowl, and yell at the person closest to him.

"We've been here for ten minutes now," he said, trying to regain his nearly lost composure, "Where is she?"

Catherine let out an exasperated sigh, "I don't know, but this place is a mess."

"You could say that again," Grissom muttered under his breath, before calling out at a passing security guard. "Sir, we are trying to find Mrs. Cole, can you tell us where we can find her?"

The large man only shrugged, "If you want autographs, come back at a different time, if you want to report a story, check our phone number. We're too busy to take anything in person right now."

"Actually, my name is Gil Grissom, this is Catherine Willows, we're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab, and we need to speak to Mrs. Cole now, if you don't mind."

The guard nodded, "Why didn't you say anything earlier?" the man asked, unaware that they had done so already. "I'll show you in, this way."

_Finally, _Grissom thought, following the uniformed guard. His patience had clean run out hours ago. The chances of finding Sara and Greg alive were slimming by the minute; Brass had a full squad out searching for any signs of Sara's car, or any possible lead to where the two may be. And he was stuck in a news room, waiting to talk to some reporter who wasn't probably going to tell them anything anyways.

The bulky guard knocked on a door before pushing it open, and poking his head in. He talked with someone for a moment before stepping back, and allowing the two to enter.

"Mrs. Cole," Grissom nodded as he came in. The blonde woman, no more than thirty years of age, looked up from the small hand mirror she held.

"Crime lab right? What are you here for?"

_So much for courtesy, _Grissom thought. But it was best to cut straight to the point anyways.

"We want to know where you got the report about the two missing CSI's" Catherine asked from behind him.

The lady laughed, picking up a pair of tweezers to pluck free some eyebrow hairs. "You're kidding right?"

After a moment of silence, she risked glancing up at them. Seeing that they were serious she set her stuff down. "Look," she stated with a sigh, "If you want to know that kind of stuff, go see my manager, Stanley. He'll tell you."

"It would be easier if you just told us," Grissom interjected.

She only sighed again, picking up the mirror again. "I can't do that."

"Why is that?" Catherine asked her, coming up the desk.

The lady slammed her stuff down, causing the two to jump slightly. "Because I don't get the reports," she cursed, leaning back in her chair. "I'm not a reporter, I'm a damn newscaster, the only thing I do in here is read the white print that comes up on that little blue screen over there," she pointed over in the corner. "Stanley is the one who chooses what I read and what I don't read. When the white words come up, that's what I say."

Catherine nodded, understanding now. "Where is Stanley now?"

Mrs. Cole laughed irritably, "At the moment, probably getting drunk off his ass celebrating like he usually does when he gets a big news breaker."

"It would really help," Grissom intervened before Catherine could say anything. "The report you gave earlier contained more information than we had."

He watched as she raised an eyebrow, looking up at them. "You're kidding? Stanley said he got it from an inside source. I figured you two were trying to alert the town to be on the look out for them."

"Unfortunately, it may have put them in more danger," Catherine told her.

She shook her head. "I don't get paid enough to do this damn job," she rubbed her head. "Um, he could be anywhere, I really have no idea…" she pulled open her top drawer of her desk, sorting through a few papers. "Here, this may help, I don't know what you people do, or what you use, but…here, just take this."

She handed them a business card, complete with her manager's phone and address. Catherine flipped it over, nodding as she examined it. "Thanks for your time," she turned to leave.

"Look, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. If I had known, I would have refused to read it. I'm sorry."

Grissom was nearly out of the room, but he stopped at that statement, turning back. "It's okay," he answered, "You had no way of knowing. You were just doing your job."

She nodded, "Then you better get out there and do yours."

Grissom nodded in return, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Greg was awake. In fact, he had never gone to sleep. Sara however, was fast asleep, and had been so for what seemed like hours. She was resting against his chest, and even though her weight was putting pressure on his already sore torso, Greg made no move to pull away. He had spent most of the time trying to control his labored breathing, trying not to wake her up.

There had been no sign of their kidnappers; Greg wondered dully if they were still around even, or if they had left them here to die. Lifting up his arms, Greg examined the chains through the dim light. He doubted he could break them in his condition; doubted he could even break them when he was one hundred percent.

He set them back down, holding his breath as Sara shifted under his hold. When he was certain she had not awakened, he let it out. She was not as bad off as he was, that was for certain. But still, she looked horrible. A black eye, a swollen lip…and Greg could see some bruising start just above the line of her shirt. Dried blood matted the top of her head, and he could see a small cut that looked as though it was infected. More in likely she had a concussion…maybe that was why she was so tired.

And all this time she hadn't complained about being in pain. It was amazing. He rested his head against the wall, glancing around the abandoned shack, wondering dimly if this was to be their grave site. His thought drifted to the team, the same people he had become friends with, the same people that were almost family to him.

There was Nick, the cowboy in him never really seemed to have left. The quirkiness he carried, and the way he stood up for Greg when anyone tried to challenge him, even though Nick often left him with the most tantalizing of tasks, trying to convince Greg that it was a good learning expereince.

Catherine was strict, perhaps more strict than his boss was, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Catherine had chosen odd times to be honest with him, not that he believed she ever lied to him, but there came matters that Catherine came to him and him alone to resolve. That showed extraordinary trust, in his opinion at least.

Warrick wasn't someone he knew all that well. He was more of a quiet, withdrawn guy. Greg had wondered what went on in that head of his half the time. He had learned some useful hints from Warrick; the man had helped keep his back at times when he was training to be in the field.

Then there was Grissom. How could he describe Grissom? The man certainly made sure his team was secure; watched over. Greg also never knew anyone else that was so fascinated by bugs. But then again, Greg could see why they interested him. Grissom just seemed like a bug person. But overall, Greg wouldn't choose anyone else to be his boss. No, Grissom did that job just fine. The thought of having someone like Ecklie as his boss…Greg shivered. One Ecklie was enough.

"You okay?" Sara asked suddenly. Greg glanced down at her, surprised to find her eyes still closed.

"Yeah," he nodded, "just thinking about what life would be like if Grissom was like Ecklie."

"Greg, where in enough of a nightmare as it is, don't make it worse," Sara warned him, opening her eyes.

Greg laughed, "Sorry," he muttered, "sleep well?"

Sara shrugged, sighing a little. "As well as I could I guess."

Both were startled as the door swung open, leaving them blinking in the bright sunlight. When the door closed again, both Mando and Stitch stood in front of them, watching the pair.

"Any thoughts yet?" Stitch asked, looking up at the taller man.

Mando rubbed his chin, as Greg looked away, trying his hardest not to feel like some specimen under a microscope. After what seemed like an eternity, the older of the two finally spoke.

"The guy will never last that long. He'll only slow us down, waste him now, we'll still get a good enough price off the girl."

Greg felt the fear rise in his chest as Sara clung onto him tightly. "No," she whispered, bringing her arms over his neck as if hoping to hold him down there with her.

Greg kicked out as Mando came near him, but the older man easily sidestepped it, grabbing Greg's hair and dragging him sideways, trying to shake Sara off. It only served her to hang on tighter, as Mando grabbed the two by the arms, forcefully yanking the two apart, throwing Sara against the wall hard. Greg winced at the impact, calling her name as she lay there stunned for a moment.

Greg was fighting fiercely now, trying anything to pull free as Mando undid the chains around his arms. A swift blow to the back of his head dropped Greg to his feet, dazed.

By this time, Sara was already on her feet, slowly crawling towards Greg, calling his name, but the chain would only allow her to go so far, and she watched sickened as Mando passed a dazed Greg off to Stitch, who in turn half drug and half pushed the young CSI out the door.

She was still fighting against her restraints, crying out for them to stop when a series of gun shots silenced her. For the first time ever, Sara felt as though she was choking, as she heard another shot being fired. Mando only smiled at her, but she paid no heed as her head came to rest on the ground, as the sobs racked her body.

When Stitch came back in, she didn't even look up as he nodded in confirmation that the job was indeed done. She could no longer see, no longer think. Greg was dead…and it was her fault…all her fault.

"Don't worry honey," Mando told her, laughing at her state, "Yours won't be long in coming either."

**TBC**

* * *

**As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed, love em much! Just one quick response here**

**brainfear**

I wasn't really planning on it being a Sara/Greg fic, it sorta happened, blame the plot bunny if you will. I should have put some warnings up but didn't think about it, I'm sorry. Just to reassure you, that will prb be all that will be in this story as well. I didn't mean to offend you


	9. Chapter Nine

**Here's a quick update for such wonderful reviewers! Figured you didn't want to wait in suspense for too long**

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

For the life of him, Greg could not remember being more tired, sick, and in pain, then he was at the present moment. He continued on the road in front of him, the same dirt road they had driven in on, he presumed. It was a slow, painful trek; the sun that had been in the middle of the sky when he started had now set behind the hills, leaving only a faint band of light to see by.

Soon, temperatures would drop, the desert was unforgiving. In the city, temperatures would stay warm, bodies and buildings trapping the heat. But out here, the barren wasteland really took its toll, did its damage. He had thought about stopping, finding somewhere to rest, but an ill feeling inside him warned him that if he did so, he wouldn't be getting up again.

That thought alone kept him going. One step after another, his limping stride another injury he had acquired in his treacherous escape attempt. He had never given up, when he had learned they meant to kill him, and take Sara off to who knew where. Stitch had dragged him outside, throwing him to his knees. As he readied the weapon, Greg kicked the small man's feet out from under him, staggering to his own feet towards the cliff.

Greg knew that he could not out run him, but perhaps he could out roll him. Taking a deep breath he had literally thrown himself down the face of the cliff. His mind screamed at him to tuck and roll, tuck and roll. That's exactly what he did, wincing at each and every rock that tore at him.

He could hear gunfire hitting around him, but effectively missing him. Until the last shot, it hit him in the arm. He was nearly unconscious by the time he came to a stop, his mind still screaming, along with his body as the pain began to consume him. Greg was somewhat surprised the fall hadn't killed him. He wasn't sure how long he lay there, but finally, he forced himself to his feet, staggering around he found that he was indeed alone.

Moving was hard from that point out. Even the smallest of movements, a turn of his head, a flicker of his fingers, or the forward motion of his legs, sent wave after wave of unimaginable pain. Part of him wondered vaguely how he was even able to still function.

The road, at first, seemed endless, until he spotted a small building in the distance. This is where he was headed. It was getting harder and harder to walk, but he wasn't willing to give up now, not when he had come so far. It was dark by the time he reached it, trying to swallow down the disappointment. It was in the same condition as the shack was…abandoned.

But a little hope still lingered, a payphone stood off to the side, as Greg made his way over to it slowly. Leaning against it, he lifted the receiver off the hook with some difficultly, his fingers weren't willing to work all that well, and having his hands tied together did nothing to help. He smiled softly when he heard the constant tone buzzing in his ear. It still worked.

Slowly, he punched in the three numbers he knew that he could use without having to pay, willing himself to stay conscious as he heard the rings. He only needed to stay awake a little longer. Just a little longer, he reminded himself as the call went through.

* * *

Grissom removed his sunglasses as he stepped out of the vehicle. It had taken only a few hours to locate the suspects' hideout after Brass had gotten the call from the hospital. By the time Brass had notified him, Greg was already being air-lifted to the ER. They had been told nothing of his condition, and Grissom was torn between checking in on Greg, or following Brass to the scene, in hopes that Sara was still alive.

It hadn't taken him long to decide. Brass made him wait, at least half an hour before following, for safety reasons. It felt like forever to him. He had sped to the scene, unaware of how fast he was really going.

By the time he arrived, the scene looked as if it was already cleared. Grissom let out a long sigh of relief as he spotted Sara sitting on a rock outcropping, a blanket draped over her shoulders. An officer stopped him however, before he could reach her.

"She's in a state of shock," the man told him quietly. "She hasn't said a thing since we pulled her from the house. We have an ambulance on the way. The men fled the scene; we have a force looking for them now."

Grissom nodded, making his way towards Sara once again, this time much slower. He knelt down in front of her, the fear evident in his eyes, but he didn't care. "Sara," he called to her softly, unsure of whether or not to touch her.

Sara didn't say anything, just kept staring ahead, mouth open slightly. As Grissom reached up to take her hand, she spoke.

"I tried everything," she muttered so quietly Grissom wasn't sure if he had even heard her right.

"I didn't mean for it too happen, I'm so sorry," she whispered, locking eyes with him for a moment.

"What are you saying Sara?" Grissom asked, grasping her hand gently. For a moment she tried to pull away, but relaxed soon after.

"They killed him, and I couldn't do anything. It's my fault he's dead," she said again, tears starting to fall down her face.

"Who?" he encouraged her softly, even though he had an idea whom she was speaking of.

She had started to cry; turning her head away from him she buried her face in her hands. It was the first time Grissom had seen the welts around her wrists, where the plastic ties had cut into her skin.

For a moment he was unsure what to do; then ever so slowly he brought her into his embrace. She didn't resist this time; only let him hold her as she continued to cry.

"Who Sara?" Grissom asked again, rubbing her back smoothly.

"Greg," she managed after a moment, "they killed him, they killed Greg."

"Sara," Grissom stopped her before she could carry on. "Greg's not dead; he's already at the hospital."

He had hoped it would calm her some, but she only shook her head. "Greg is dead, I saw it, they killed him."

"Did you?" Grissom asked her, "did you see them kill him?"

Sara opened her mouth to respond, but ended up saying nothing. Finally she just shook her head. "They said he was…"

"Come," Grissom helped her to her feet, "You need to get to the hospital."

"We have to find Greg first," Sara told him, holding back some.

"Greg's at the hospital," Grissom said, watching her closely.

"We can't leave him out here," she started again, but Grissom stopped her.

"We'll find him," he told her. It was obvious she wasn't thinking clearly. "You need to rest though." He held out his hand again, smiling this time when she finally took it after a moment.

* * *

Nick and Warrick were nearly out the door when Catherine caught them. There had nearly been a stampede when Brass called in, saying that Greg had been found. Grissom had left almost immediately after the detective, they were able to locate the hideout from the partial directions Greg was able to give them.

Brass had sent a helicopter out to get him, after tracing the call back to an old single pump gas station that was no longer in use. Nick had wanted to leave right then, but knowing they still had a case to work on; the pair did what they could.

Catherine came up to them in a hurry, knowing they were leaving to check in on Greg. It had been wonderful news to hear, she could only hope the best for Sara now. "You know that Stanley our news lady talked about?" she asked them.

After a nod she continued, "He's our kidnapper," she told them, handing over the papers.

One was a close up of the two robbers; the other was a criminal background record for Stanley Marden.

"Petty theft, fraud, and black market," Warrick read of his history. "Also known as Stitch."

He glanced back up at her. "So you're telling me he is the one who called the story in?"

Catherine shrugged, taking the papers back. "If you want to find all the big stories first, than you create them, I wasn't able to get a hit off his partner though."

Nick nodded, "Send out alerts," he told her.

"Already have," she nodded at them, "Get going, give me a call when you find anything out."

"Will do," Warrick said as he followed Nick out to the parking lot. The drive there was long and eerie, neither one spoke as they hurried inside on arrival.

Warrick took the lead as they approached the receptionist desk. "We're looking for a Greg Sanders," he told her quickly. "He should have come in not too long ago."

The lady nodded, flipping through some papers, unaware of their impatience. She continued to search through each record, taking her time as Warrick drummed his fingers on the counter top.

"I'm trying to read these," she said, glaring up at him.

He stopped, pulling back and crossing his arms. One look at Nick told him that the Texan was also irritated. Finally the lady spoke up, pulling out a paper.

"Mr. Sanders, air lifted here. He's in surgery. You can wait or come back later."

"We'll wait," Nick spoke up.

The lady nodded, pointing them in the right direction. Taking a seat in the chairs provided, Warrick let out a sigh as he clasped his hands. Waiting was always the hardest part. They weren't there long when a nurse met up with them.

"You're here for Mr. Sanders right?"

They both nodded expectantly. "Any news on him yet?" Nick asked.

"We won't know until he gets out of surgery," she told him with a soft smile. "Are you family?"

"Friends," Warrick managed.

"Will his family be here soon?"

Nick shook his head, "They're not local," he didn't want to explain the fact that his family was just being notified, and even worse was the simple thought that no one would probably fly in. Greg hardly talked about his family, but from what he had understood, his family wasn't the best thing in his life.

The nurse nodded, offering up a clip board, that Warrick ended up taking. "I need these forms filled out for him, do the best you can, and turn them into the front desk when you finish."

Warrick flipped through the pages, feeling queasy as he came to the consent forms, ones that required information about if the patient didn't survive surgery. Warrick quickly closed the packed, swallowing, looking up to find Nick watching him.

"He will make it," Nick told him. "Sara too, we just have to wait."

"Waiting is the hardest part," Warrick told him softly.

**TBC**


	10. Chapter Ten

**Last chapter here, but there is a sequel planned, the summary for it is at the end of the chapter. A HUGE thanks to all my wonderful reviewers, you guys are absolutely great!**

**Wonderful thanks to Yet-Another-Weasley, Kelly, ljae, SLynn, Michele Grahn, stormchild at yahoo, DarkJadedEyes, bene, Mellaithwen, raccoony, Mar, CatStokes, Mar, brainfear, Ms. Elizabeth Granger, Dee, Fwe, Quicksilver, Duckie (formerly A Bloom), Jacinda, Artic Wolf2, justawriter, spikes-storm, Sillie, chibigirl626, lins and anyone else who has reviewed that I missed mentioning. **

* * *

**Chapter 10**

It was one of the longest nights Nick could ever remember. The silence was eerie, neither him nor Warrick had spoken since finishing the forms. Warrick had skipped the last section on purpose, refusing to fill them out until they heard more.

Sometime during that hour Grissom had arrived, sitting down next to them. "How's Sara?" Nick asked softly when he did.

"Exhausted," Grissom had replied. "She was in shock, has a minor concussion, bruising, but they said she should be able to go home by tomorrow afternoon. Any word on Greg?"

Warrick shook his head, "Nothing, nothing at all."

It was as if on cue, the next they knew was that the nurse was greeting them again. "Mr. Sanders is out of surgery now, he's resting, but I don't see why you can't visit him. He's pretty drugged, so he more in likely won't understand much."

Grissom nodded, "Injuries? We need to take them down; this is still an open crime investigation."

The nurse nodded, "I'll get you the report, but just a quick overview; Concussion, gunshot wounds to the abdomen and right arm, bruising of the rib cage and collar bone, mainly on the left side, a couple cracked ribs, some internal bruising, stitching to the cheekbone; he turned his ankle pretty good, we thought it was broken by the way it looked, but all bones look intact, we'll know better when the swelling goes down …other than that just various bruising and lacerations. It's going to take a while for him to recover; he's going to be pretty sore for some time. That's only physically though."

Grissom nodded, sucking in a deep breath. As long as the pair could pull through physically, he had confidence that emotionally and mentally they would be okay. At least that's what he had convinced himself.

The young nurse smiled, indicating to the door. As the three stood and made their way towards the room, a strange feeling came over Grissom. Suddenly he didn't want to go in that room. He wanted to see Greg, make sure the young man was okay, but he wasn't able to even make a move towards the open door.

"Um, you go on ahead, I've got to get back to the lab and help Catherine," he told Nick and Warrick quickly. "If anything happens, you know how to reach me."

He left shortly after, giving the two little time to react. Grissom had waited all night as they had, and now he was leaving, just like that. Warrick patted Nick on the shoulder.

"Come on man; let's go see how he's doing."

Nick nodded, following him inside. The doctor was finishing a few things, but nodded to them as they walked by. Both of them had taken in account what the nurse had said, had prepared for the worse, but seeing Greg there, in his condition, was still unnerving.

Greg had his eyes open, though barely, watching them. He managed to smile some, but it was clear he was in pain. The medication hadn't started to work quite yet, and the drugs left over from surgery were starting to wear off.

"So," Nick finally broke the silence, taking a seat next to the bed. "What's all this about being late? I missed my game you know." He told him, trying to lighting the mood.

Greg laughed some, wincing as he did so, "Doesn't matter," he whispered, "your team sucks anyways."

Nick laughed too, starting to deny it, but decided to let it go. "You gave us quite a scare," he told him instead.

"Yeah?" Greg asked, "gave myself quite a scare too…Sara?"

"She's doing okay," Warrick told him, smiling sadly. "They say she can be out by tomorrow."

"What about me? When do I…get to break out of this joint?"

"Not for a while," Nick answered, watching as Greg closed his eyes, nodding in response.

"You get some rest," Warrick intervened, "We'll come see you when you feel better."

Greg barely nodded as they stood. They had waited all night to see him, and had spent less than a minute talking with him. Nick was still worried, despite what the doctors had said. On their way out, they stopped by to check in on Sara; she too was asleep.

She looked far better than Greg did, but it was still hard for the two to see her like that. She had an IV hooked up to her, in the same fashion as Greg; the two had been slightly dehydrated after being brought in.

Warrick fumbled for his pager as it went off, showing it to Nick as well. Visiting time was over; they needed to get back to the lab.

* * *

As said, Sara was released the next day from the hospital. Not wanting to be alone, she stayed with Catherine until she felt well enough to return to her own place. Strict doctor's orders kept her from work for a week, in that time she spent most of it visiting Greg.

They had kept him in the hospital for two weeks, before relinquishing him. Greg had been glad to get out, but like Sara, had been banned from the lab for at least a week. He was still on strong medication for the pain as he slowly healed from all the bruising he had received.

Still, the two showed up at the lab often, spending most of the time in the break room, talking quietly. Whenever anyone else came in the room, they stopped their conversation, smiling softly, waiting until the other person had left. No one knew quite what they talked about, but it wasn't hard to guess.

Catherine, Nick and Warrick continued to work on the investigation searching for the two suspects that had taken them hostage, and were outraged when they were unable to find any leads. The two, they assumed had fled on foot, were found no where, until it was finally concluded that they perished in the desert heat somewhere. They sent a recovery team to search the area for weeks afterwards, but finally, due to budget costs, had to call it off.

Grissom took charge of the crime scene itself, slowly piecing together the story that happened. He had been able to follow the blood trail that Greg had left behind, shaking his head in wonder at what he had done. The cliff Greg had fallen down was nearly fifty feet high; how anyone in Greg's condition could have survived that was beyond him. What was even more incredible was that after he had fallen, the young man had picked himself up, and staggered near ten miles to the old gas station. Sometimes luck ran with you, he thought, for the old building was scheduled to be torn down in only a few months. After that, the next sign of any town was over thirty miles away…a distance that Grissom was sure that Greg wouldn't have been able to make.

At any rate, there had been a noticeable change in both Sara and Greg, something that wasn't uncommon for what they had gone through. Still neither one would talk about what had happened, and would pretend that nothing was wrong.

When the pair came back to work, Grissom had confined them to the lab; not wanting them back out in field, still worried about their emotional state. They worked with little complaint, at first anyways, but it was clear that their tempers were rising after only a few weeks. It was a short time after this that Grissom called them into his office.

"I talked to your doctors," he told them, studying their expressions as he talked. "They recommended therapeutic help."

"We're not crazy," Greg told him, resting his head against his hand.

"I didn't say you were," Grissom cut him off, "Neither did they. Therapy is not uncommon in your state. You'll probably hate more for saying this, but I think it will help, for both of you. After what you went through, to experience no emotional or mental effects is quite rare."

Sara hadn't said anything, just sat in the chair, her arms folded; she wasn't even looking at him.

"They recommended a real good doctor, if you two go see him, you would be able to get out in the field sooner."

"Okay," Sara finally piped up. "We'll go see him."

Greg turned to her, incredulous, "What? Don't I get a say in this to?"

"No," Sara said flatly, "We'll go," she glanced at him, a silent look passing between them, something Grissom didn't understand. He had heard rumors that the pair had been spending more time together, but wasn't sure if was true.

"Fine, we'll go then. When?"

"As soon as you want," Grissom handed him the number. Grissom watched the pair as they left the office. He shook his head to himself, wondering if the Sara and Greg he knew would ever come back.

"They will," he told himself, "They made it this far, they'll make it all the way."

**The End**

* * *

**Coming soon**

**Cold as Ice**

**Greg and Sara want nothing more than to be back out in the field, but Grissom is holding them back until they agree to a seminar up in the mountains. It seemed like a good idea; that was until people started showing up dead without any real reason. Greg and Sara must keep their wits about them as they search for answers, and at the same time confide in each other in order to find closure to their own terrifying experience. **


End file.
